| A paper by Cornelius G. Kolff (CBCE,
XVw) of Staten Island in collaboration with scholars of the Middelharnis
High School, Staten Island, September 2, 1938, included the following
dedication: "This book is dedicated to the memory of my dearly
beloved American mother, Mary Amalie Kolff [née Fliedler, Ed.], widow of my father Cornelius
G. Kolff, born Rotterdam, Holland, in 1831, died Staten Island 1860".
From 'The Niagara Frontier and Middelharnis Over Flakkee [Overflakkee, Ed.] Holland'
Story of two great grandfathers Eli Hart of the
Niagara Frontier and Adrianus Quirinus Kolff of Middelharnis.
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| Youth
After my father's death, my widowed mother moved to a cottage which
her father owned on the Richmond Turnpike at Tompkinsville, Staten
Island. It was located at the foot of a hill in a park which contained
a number of cottages and through which a winding road, shaded by cedar
trees, led to the top of a hill. From here a wonderful view was had
of New York Bay. My mother told me a great deal about my father and
of Holland and the Dutch people. One day when she took me to the top
of the hill, she pointed out where New York City was and about where
Bond Street was, the place where I was born. The most prominent structure
of New York City at that time was the steeple of Trinity Church, which
stood out far above the surrounding houses. In the bay and the river
you could see the masts of sailing vessels sticking high into the
air. Ofcourse there was no Brooklyn Bridge, no Statue of Liberty,
no Ellis Island, but I was shown the Jersey Highlands and Monmouth
County hills... Down on the waters of the bay were many ships arriving
from and departing for all parts of the world. Somehow or other, my
thoughts turned to Holland and looking up inquiringly at my mother,
I asked her, "mother, where is my father's land, where is Holland...?"
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She pointed in the direction of Sandy Hook
and said to me, "there, beyond that point is Holland." I looked hard
but could not see anything and told her so. She asked me what Holland
looked alike and all I could say was that I thought it had a red roof
with a windmill on it. I even dreamed about it and pictured Holland
with its red roofed houses and its dikes and windmills.
Finally when I was about six years old my mother told me that I
was to have a new father and that he would take me to Holland, and
I was happy. No Dutch mother could have done more to make her son
love Holland than my little American mother, who firmly implanted
in my heart a love for Holland which lasted to this day. Eventually
I was able to visit Holland many times during my boyhood and later.
Reflections
It is a peculiar sensation for a native born American in his 78th
year to find himself in a small fishing village or town in South Holland
and to sit in the same chair, at the same desk in the office and building
owned and occupied by his paternal great grandfather from 1768 to
1826. |
